Wilding In The West update (Patreon)

Hailey had a way of burning through all the staid pace of civilities that Chad would normally disdain. In a flash she was back from upstairs, assuring them that her father was delighted to have them there and felt up to joining them for supper. A stableboy was sent to tend their mounts; Chad made a note to ask if he might purchase one of their more reliable horses, as the stagecoach line had taken him as close to the border as he was likely to get and now his travel must be done by saddle.

There was a pall cast over her charming company.

The longer it stretched without Arthur putting in an appearance, the more this well-appointed house seemed sinister. The shadows grew longer. The corners got darker. There was something unaccountably ominous about this home that was yet a fortress.

Still it was good to clean up and put the hard ride behind him. After riding all through the noon and almost to evening, having bathed that past night seemed more like a dream than a memory. A very good dream, but one that could not be true.

Chad wondered how long he could put so much miles on himself in a single day. There were times in his esteemed career when he’d rode all night, night after night, and his bones scarce complained. Those days were taking their leave of him… but then again, he did not feel nearly the aches and pains the old-timers complained of. And was not eager to join them in their lives of griping on how young they weren't.

He circuited the ground floor of the house as Hailey donned a pinafore and shuffled the food between the stove and the table. It was in many ways an archetypal rancher house. The decorations were either bought by the lady of the house or souvenirs of the man's work: Longhorns, horseshoes, a busted saddle, a lariat wrapped around a sawed branch. Each, Chad knew, had a story to bring more emotion out of a man than the finest paint work.

The most sentimental was a tintype long as his arm. The picture within the frame showed the front of the ranch house with a young family in the middle, in a line with their cowhands. Chad recognized the foreman he had walloped and there was Hailey as a child, her usual smile missing a tooth or two. The man at the center, standing by a woman who was all but the double of Hailey now, had to be Arthur Steinfeld. His face looked plainly handsome. Whatever scar needed tending, it must've found him after the photograph was taken.

Hailey came into the dining room, undoing her apron strings. “Childhood has so many happy memories in it, doesn't it? It's a shame we forget it with such ease.”

“Not always.” Chad drove his hands into his pockets. This was not a happy home; even if it were, he didn't wish to wash his troubles on their peace. “Your mother was a lovely woman.”

“Indeed she was. I often wonder if she'd be proud of me… the way I've kept the home since her death.”

“It's a lovely house. It'd be the pride of any woman.”

Chad did not think his praise was effusive. He was simply stating fact. But from the light in Hailey's eyes, you'd think he was pouring love poetry into her. “It's kind of you to say, Mr. Connors. Most kind.”

She went to the foot of the stairs, where a bell topped the newel post. When she rang it, a funereal toll echoed up to the heights of the house.

“Father will be down soon. Let's get started so he doesn't feel he's kept us waiting when he joins us.”

Chad felt like he'd chanced enough politeness with the talk on Hailey's mother, so he was happy to focus on filling his belly while Dr. Solheim steered the conversation. Delighting Hailey with talk of his native Austria. Chad enjoyed talking of it himself. It sounded like as good a four walls as a man could hope to be closed up by.

Halfway through the meal, when the toll of Arthur's absence could not help but be felt even over Hailey and Solheim’s charming interplay, Chad heard a door slam shut on the second floor. Heavy footfalls drew a creak from every floorboard. Then that hulking weight was on the stairs. Each step was hammered in turn.

“Quite a man, your father,” Chad quipped, forcing lightness.

Hailey was still as a china doll. “Please, be sensitive to his condition.”

What Arthur's condition was, Chad couldn't say. Literally. As Arthur came into sight, Chad saw all the signs of a prosperous rancher. Sturdy working clothes, in design, but of fine material. A silk shirt under a burlap jacket, shiny shoes below canvas pants. A pristine white sheet was draped from the crown of his head to either shoulder. Nothing of his head but the very shape could be discerned. Two holes were cut for his eyes – through them, the pupils were cool and calculating, sizing up each guest as a bullock would be judged.

“Apologies for my tardiness.” His voice was deep and resonant, with little of the Texas accent. A man who'd traveled far to make his fortune. “I hope my daughter has proved a sufficient hostess.”

Solheim spoke for Chad. “As delightful company as could be asked for!”

Chad nodded. The movement drew Arthur's attention. His eyes rolled to Chad as if independent of any control, like billiards balls rolling upon the maize. 

“I had expected the doctor as a guest. You were not anticipated.”

“Chad Conners,” he introduced himself. “I thank you for the your hospitality and that of your daughter.”

“You are most welcome to them. I confess an interest to how you came by them.”

“Ah, I had just been straightening all that in my mind,” Solheim said, pulling in a deep breath.

He launched into the narrative, starting with boarding the stagecoach, progressing to being set upon by the road agents, and finally arriving at Chad's rescue. Chad tried not to look too prideful as Solheim detailed his heroics, lathering courage on how he'd faced three savages in an unfair showdown and triumphed regardless. He felt Hailey's adoring gaze on him, saw her hands tighten convulsively on her utensils.

Arthur, though, seemed to stiffen and shake. Gathering anger reddened his eyes and flushed the skin of his hands. He sawed at his serving of flank steak as though it offended him to see it intact.

“Del Rio! That slime! This is his doing! He won't even allow me to heal from his treachery without more crimes against me!”

“Del Rio,” Chad repeated. “Who's that?”

“Who's that? Who's that? I'll show you who he is!” Seized by an anger that corded every muscle in his powerful body, Arthur grabbed his daughter's arm and ripped away the sleeve. There in the pale flesh was embedded a puckered ring Chad knew had been left by a bullet.

Solheim gasped, but whether at the vividness of the scar or the violence of Arthur's act, Chad couldn't tell.

“That Mex bastard tried to kill us all when all we offered was friendship. He shot down my brother, sends his rustlers north of the border to raid us for years. God knows how many bullets he's left in these grounds and these walls! But we'll pay him back for this latest audacity. In the morning, we ride for that rancid hacienda of his to burn him out for good!”

He stood up so hard his chair was toppled behind him, stormed off with footsteps that assaulted the floor beneath him.

“Daddy, the doctor –!” Hailey called after him. “He's come such a long way!”

But Arthur was already on his way up the stairs, shotguns going off with each step.

Solheim reached over to pat Hailey's hand. “There there, child. My digestion could do with a long rest. In the morning, I will look your father over with all my facilities freshened.”

“Yes… I suppose so…” Hailey said. She called to one of the black servants. “Titus, see him to his room. Oh, and have one prepared for Mr Connors. You won't take your leave of us until morning, will you Mr. Connors?”

“Not if there's a range war going on,” Chad said wryly.